White and Black
by SaturnineSunshine
Summary: AU CB. "His body tightens with need. He really wishes the white monster weren't attacking his senses. It's too much to force himself not touch her back. 'You're supposed to be mine. Remember, Bass? You're my advisor. My partner in crime.'"


**A/N**: An AU Chair fic since I haven't submitted in so long. I hope you like it.

**Summary**: Her hand eases sensuously over his shoulders. His body tightens with need. He really wishes the white monster weren't attacking his senses. It's too much to force himself not touch her back. "You're supposed to be mine. Remember, Bass? You're my advisor. My partner in crime."

**Disclaimer**: Nothing belongs to me. All is Gossip Girl, though the universe may be different. Thanks so much tony amazing and busy beta comewhatmay.x for being kind enough to beta.

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When she walks in, he knows that he's in trouble. It isn't because she's in a lacy black number that's cut at her thighs, nor because there has always been something about her that no other girl could ever possess encompass—no other girl could ever know him like she does.

It's her eyes.

Blair Waldorf's black eyes are on him when she walks into the last place he thought he'd see her. She has always publicly abhorred his Lost Weekends or hedonist masquerades. They don't have the class that she so effortlessly emulates. It is that thing about her. She is beautiful and untouchable. But he sees what no one else can see. He sees the dark thrill in her.

And he sees it now.

This is a public place. He never thought he'd see her somewhere where that blow covered the glass tables like snow.

But all eyes are on her. It is something that she could never understand. She never knew the effect she had on people—particularly those of the male gender. Particularly him. She should know better than to walk into his domain where his sort of cohorts would rally around her.

That dress.

She should know better.

But maybe that's the point. Her hair hangs between her shoulder blades in almost black curls, matching her fiery eyes.

He knows that it's trouble. She's looking at him like the predator that no one else knows she is, and he knows he can't possibly face her being half-minded. White powder has already overtaken him and he knows that being compromised like this makes him easy prey.

It's always a battle between them. And it's a battle that he adores. It's the only thing he can take real pleasure out of anymore, after his first foray into romantic monogamy rotted his sentiments.

But she energizes him. She makes him feel. And even at half-mast like this, he knows she's still the best sparring partner he'll ever have. Even now.

He gets aggressive when he's like this. The minute she laid eyes on him, she could tell. He gets aggressive and nasty and he knows that she loves it. She doesn't let anyone see it, but that was the way it always was between them. He always sees her for who she is.

And he loves it.

He still wonders what she's doing here.

He does have his suspicions, but she doesn't look like she's here to dole out punishment for his evident sin. She looks like she wants to play.

And he always wants to play with her.

"Waldorf," Chuck slurs elegantly as she approaches him in at his slouched position on the couch. "I can't entirely be sure this isn't a hallucination. Are you sure you're in the right place?"

"I see you've started the party early," Blair says coolly, her gaze leaving his to see his companions on the couch. "And that it didn't take you long to move on from my best friend."

Blair's voice is cutting, and pointed and even in their inebriated state, the sluts that cling to Chuck so desperately disperse immediately.

"Are you here to berate me for a decision that we all knew was a long time coming?" Chuck sighs. But Blair doesn't answer immediately. Her heels click across the floor as she slides next to him on the couch, her body warm and far too tempting.

He suddenly wishes that he were stone sober. He knows how he gets when he's like this. He cannot be accountable for his actions when she looks like that.

She's leaning against him and he can't be positive it isn't on purpose.

Knowing her, it probably isn't.

"What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you're okay," Blair says sweetly. He hates her. He hates how much he likes her.

He likes her. He's always liked her.

"Everyone heard about your tragic break-up."

"I'm insulted," Chuck says, "that you think a relationship can castrate me."

"I didn't mean to insinuate any such thing," she says. "I came to make sure the opposite happened."

"Have you?"

"She's inconsolable," Blair says with a steely smirk.

"No she isn't," Chuck replies. "You know she isn't."

But Blair is less interested in that. He likes how he can see it when her eyes glaze over with boredom. Neither of them wants to talk about it.

He's more pleased with the fact how close she is to him.

"You sure you're not distraught?" Blair asks. "You do seem to be indulging in some old habits."

"I'm back," Chuck smiles. "I'm finally me again."

"I'm glad."

He can tell she is. He can tell how pleased she is by the whole thing. And he is too. He never thought she'd come here tonight. But this is more than he ever wished for.

She reaches her hand towards his face, rubbing above his upper lip, beneath his nose, with her dainty thumb. She's touching him and he can't quite understand it. He doesn't know how they have become so familiar with each other.

They never did this. It was there, but it wasn't something they talked about, let alone acted upon. Of course, he had fantasized countless of times about the one girl that no one could get.

He never thought it would actually happen.

She runs her fingers softly through his hair. He closesd his eyes against the welcome stimulation.

"You're a mess." She says it fondly, and he can't help but feel the same way.

"You're going to take care of me?" he asks smugly.

"I'd be surprised if you let me," Blair says curtly. "You didn't even let your girlfriend get that close."

"You and I are different," he says conspiratorially. He's finally free. And he finally knows that this is something they can't back down from. "And why would you even want to?"

"Because you're a mess I love," she says. It isn't serious. He isn't sure if it's in a friend sort of way… or something else. It scares him how much he wants it to be the latter. He doesn't like those things. He never has.

But he likes her. It's more than that. It's what's so frightening.

"I'm far too fond of you," she sighs. Her fingers were still combing through his hair casually. She always had every action calculated to the detail. She knows exactly what she's doing. He just doesn't know why.

"Well your mission is accomplished," Chuck says. "I'm fine."

"What makes you think that was my mission?"

He loathes this girl. As soon as the question is out of her mouth, she stands up. Her warmth vacates his body and he has to resist the urge to pull her back into his lap.

Her smile is telling and it's clear that this isn't the end. She's taunting and she's reeling him in. He can't do anything but follow her like a lost puppy.

He hates the thought, but her coy smile over her shoulder is directed at him and he knows he will be the fiercest lost puppy in heat there ever was.

She isn't surprised when he follows her right into the bathroom. She never expected anything less. Girls vacate the room at the sight of him and it's just the two of them.

Blair looks at herself in the mirror, reapplying her lipstick. He loves that red color smeared all over her lips.

He wants it smeared all over him. He wants to find it places he knows the proper Queen of the Upper East Side would never venture.

But he's always known her better than anyone else. No one knows the real Blair Waldorf. No one knows but him.

It's too much.

He feels it coming before he can stop it. He wishes he could rein in his desires. It's too soon for her. It has to be. But she's the one who came here. Maybe she even came here for him.

He's wanted this for so long. Even longer, though he was sure that she would never give him the time of day. They've grown closer and now they are so close, it is unavoidable. He can't rid himself of her. She has burrowed beneath his skin.

He can't stop himself.

His hands are on her hips as he openly puts his nose to her hair.

And he's gone.

He pins her against the sink, and she turns easily in his arms. She has been expecting this.

"What are you doing?" she asks casually.

Vixen.

"You really have those big innocent eyes down, don't you?" he murmurs. He studies her with the utmost fascination. She was always an enigma to him. He can't help but want to study her and watch her forever.

"You see right through me, don't you?" she asks coolly. He can't help but bury his nose in her hair again. She pushes against his chest, detaching from him with some effort. His arms are pried away reluctantly.

"We're not going to have a problem, are we?" she asks diplomatically. "You're not the most docile of creatures when you're like this, if you recall."

"I'd never do that to you," he says honestly. He knows that he's made mistakes. But Blair is a queen. He would never make the mistake of violating boundaries with her. More than that, he knows all of his mistakes have been made under the influence of this very substance.

But it's Blair. She's superior to the rest of them. She's the one thing that breaks through the haze and jacked senses.

"I know," she says comfortingly. He knows it's the truth "But I wouldn't want to interrupt your mourning period."

That wasn't something he was expecting.

"Meaning?" he asks suspiciously.

"You letting loose is just further evidence of your broken heart." He knows she's teasing but it bothers him. That she thinks his affection for her best friend was anything more than amicable—if it was even that.

"You really do like torturing me," he says, his body still tight against hers.

"Am I wrong?" She was searching for the truth all along.

"You want me to say it," he says confidently.

Her eyes are on fire with the single syllable. She doesn't want to say it. But there's no avoiding it now.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Her eyelashes bat at him again and he can't help but put a hand through her luxurious hair. She's so perfect when she's pretending she isn't in control of everything.

"You're very beautiful," he says softly. For a moment, he's sure she's flattered. There's only a hint of a flush on her fair face, but he sees it. And he almost hates it that she doesn't realize it. He hates that no one has said it to her every day. He would. Because she is. She's everything. "Isn't it funny how you broke up with my best friend the second I started dating yours?"

Her eyes darken. It's that exact thing. The person that should have been telling her those things, but obviously took her for granted.

Chuck could never take her for granted.

"Why would that be funny?"

"You are sweet," he says, "pretending that I don't know you better than anyone."

"Not anyone," Blair says delicately. He knows exactly what she's talking about.

"I broke up with her," Chuck reminds her.

"Like you said," Blair answers coldly. "It was a long time coming."

"Don't tell me you're jealous." But clearly, that's exactly what he wants to hear. He's thrilled at the thought.

"Maybe I'm just very possessive over you."

She has surprised him again and he can't help but love it.

Her hand eases sensuously over his shoulders. His body tightens with need. He really wishes the white monster weren't attacking his senses. It's too much to force himself not touch her back. "You're supposed to be mine. Remember, Bass? You're my advisor. My partner in crime."

"I like hearing you talk that way."

"What made her so special?"

"How long have you been waiting to ask that?"

Her knee is in between his legs and he wishes that she weren't torturing him so much. He wants it so badly and she just as much told him that she does too. He needs this.

"Just curious." Again she pretends to be so innocent—except that she knows exactly what she's doing.

"I tried being respectable for a while," he admits. "Dating a reformed bad girl was what Bart wanted from me. He wanted me decent."

"And that changed?" she asks softly. He knows she's being real with him now.

"No," he says. "That was the problem. Nothing changed. I tried doing the respectable thing."

"And it wasn't for you."

"Not with her."

"What on earth are you implying?"

That bitch. He presses against her and her eyes flutter. He knows that she can feel him. Her breath halts.

"Are you sure you can't feel it?" he asks her hotly in her ear. She squirms. But he knows she isn't trying to get away. "Nathaniel told me you two did the deed."

"He lied," Blair says.

"Did he?" Chuck asks.

That sort of inexperience never really allured him the way it did for those lacrosse players. But with Blair, he can't help but feel even hotter for her. He can't help it. It's almost like she has had been saving herself for him. And that makes this so much more right. He's always knew it was. He just never thought she would walk in for him like this. But she has.

She could be lying. But he doesn't care. It's her. And if she really does remain untainted by his best friend, all the better.

They were always meant for each other. He knows that. And somehow, the stubborn Ice Queen had finally realized it too.

"How strange," Chuck says, "that he would lie to his best friend."

"Maybe he was threatened," she smirks. Now he knows she's playing with him.

"I highly doubt that."

"His pride was wounded," Blair says. Her knee nudges higher and he does his best not to shudder.

"I can't imagine why," Chuck grinds out.

"Use your imagination," Blair replies. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" Chuck asks. He likes the game. But he wants her more.

"I think I should get you home," Blair says smoothly.

"That would be acceptable."

"You're in far too destructive a state to be allowed to make it on your own right now."

He likes the sound of that less. She does care for him. He's certain of that. But he doesn't want to go home just to go to bed—unless she's coming with him.

In every sense of the word.

…

In the back of his limo, his hands search for her thigh, his mouth trailing hotly across her neck. Her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, but it's clear that she's trying to distance herself from him. Her body is stiff, but her fingers grip at him, her breathing heavy.

She turns her face away.

He slides back, staring at her.

His breaths come out in sharp pants and she turns to look at him.

"How's your heart?"

For a horrible moment, he thinks she means figuratively. He can't even think about formulating sentences right now. All he can't think about is her and being in between her legs.

He knows how he feels for her. But words don't come easily to him when he's in this state. And especially now, when all he can think of is his libido and how much he needs her.

But she puts her hand to his chest, feeling beneath his shirt as his heart beats insistently against her hand. He hadn't realized it. And he isn't sure if it's because of everything that has happened, or what he knows that she's worried about.

She could be worried about him. Or this can be another calculated move. Either way, he likes it.

"Loud."

He knows that it's the wrong thing to say because she's distancing herself from him. He grabs her hand. She's still. He knows he's surprised her. It wasn't his intention. It was the only thing that came to him. But it's right. He never thought that their fingers would intertwine like this, but it's perfect.

She nears him again, but tentatively this time. Her elbow rests on the back of the seat as she faces him, searching his face intently.

"I don't want you to explode."

"I'll be honest. I'm in danger of that," he smirks. Her eyes flicker down to his pants and she rolls hers eyes. She puts a hand to his chest again. His heart is still beating wildly against her palm.

"You get too excited like this."

"There is no such thing," he saysid huskily, leaning into her touch, "as too excited."

Her nails scrape his chest lightly. He shivers.

"Are you worried about me?" he asks coolly.

"We wouldn't want to have another… accident," Blair says lightly.

Truthfully, he wasn't even thinking about it. He never thinks about that night. But there is distinct worry in her eyes and he knows that she thinks about it a lot.

"You don't have to worry."

"I was the one that found you," she says.

"I was fine."

"After the hospital." There's an edge to her voice. "She should have been looking after you."

"Is that what this is about?" Chuck asks, pleased.

"I love her," Blair says. "But she was in way over her head."

"But you could have taken care of me?" Chuck asks. "Couldn't you?"

And he knows it's a play because her arms circle his neck and he can smell her again.

"If it were me, it never would have happened."

"You do have a tight leash on your men."

And again, he's said the wrong thing. She's detracting. But he holds fast.

"I suppose that explains your conflict with monogamy."

"I'd be happy to employ it with you," he whispers in her ear.

"You think I'm frigid," Blair says.

"I think you are with people who aren't your kind," Chuck says.

"I don't want to control you," Blair says.

"You do," Chuck says into her neck. "Do you know that? The slightest look and I'm trembling for you."

She shakes. It's obvious he wouldn't say it if he were as sober, but it doesn't matter. They both know he feels it. And she feels it too. Her nails dig into his neck.

"How was she?" Blair is quick and deadly and he's a slave to her again. Her teeth pull at his earlobe. "Was she everything that you wanted? Serena van der Woodsen. Did she accomplish every fantasy?"

"You are nasty," Chuck groans in admiration. "If I wanted her, I'd have her."

"But you did," Blair says dangerously.

"Even Serena van der Woodsen couldn't kill your effect on me."

She sighs. It's exactly what she wants to hear and for the first time, he isn't just saying it. They fit so perfectly together. He says something he feels and she loves it.

He knows how dangerous that word is. He knows that she's dangerous. He knows everything about this is a risk. But he feels it. He feels for her. She makes him feel alive.

His hand searches beneath her skirt again.

"We're here."

He can't even get out calling her a tease before she's out of the limo. For a disappointing moment he's sure she's directed his driver to her penthouse. But she's pulling him out alongside her and he knows that they're at The Palace.

By the time they reached the elevator, his face iwas in her neck again.

"Escorting me all the way to my bedroom?" Chuck whispers secretively. "Who are you?"

"Not one of your prostitutes," Blair says easily. But her hand encases his as the elevator doors open and she pulls him to his suite.

It's dark and she doesn't bother turning on a light. But he still sees her. He sees more clearly than he's ever seen anything in his life and he knows that this is right. This is perfect. Perfection is a word he uses rarely, simply because the world is imperfect. It's in tatters and everything is hopeless.

Except her.

Blair Waldorf.

She shines with a light he knows no can see but him. She shines with moonlight instead of sunlight. Not yellow but a cleansing white. And for the first time, the both of them are in the light.

"Your eyes are a little less manic."

She says this bluntly. He still knows this is a compliment, even as she pushes him towards his bed roughly.

"Trying to wrestle me into bed?" he asks cheekily. But even as he says it, bed seems like an inviting and comfortable option, whether she plans on joining him or not.

"Charles," Blair whispers softly. "Must you be so difficult?"

"Yes."

Her laughter is light and infections and he knows that he loves her. He knows that he can't possibly understand that word, or even entertaining the notion of telling her in the next decade, but he does.

His rottend, squirming excuse for a heart is full of this love. It overwhelms him so much that he feels that he could burst.

She laughs and he allows her to push him onto a bed that is big enough for two, though but he has never shared it in such a pure respect.

She has taken off his shoes and jacket, but just stands there for a moment, unsure as to what to do next.

"Are you going to leave me now?"

Her eyes flicker to his. He can't read her expression, especially in the dark, but she's hesitating and he's glad.

He's almost surprised when she slides underneath the sheets with him.

"You need me," she says softly. "I'm not going to leave you alone."

"I do need you," he says, kissing her neck sensuously. But she leans away.

"Are you going to ruin this?"

He knows she doesn't mean her being here, but the perfect moment they have constructed. He knows exactly what she means.

"I'm going to do whatever you want me to."

"You're going to settle down and sleep," Blair says. "Will you sleep it off first? For me?"

There is only one possible answer.

"Yes."

In the middle of the night they converge effortlessly, their limbs entwininged in their sleep.


End file.
